


it's going to be a champagne year

by blackwayfarers



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Birthday Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwayfarers/pseuds/blackwayfarers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one downside of the Christmas season is that it's also the only time of the year Louis doesn't get his boys. Spending ten months out of the year in their pockets should get under Louis' skin but it's weirdly sobering to think of the few weeks he's not going to have their shoulders to lean against or their hair to tug and nipples to tweak, just having them around like the bass line to the song of his life. </p>
<p>Louis just wants to spend one of the days they have off to celebrate the little half-Christmas they'll never be able to properly have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's going to be a champagne year

**Author's Note:**

> I love seasonal fics so much so here's a little gross, overly-emotional Louis-loving Christmas fic for the holiday season!! 
> 
> Ten thousand adoring fanfares from on high for Bridget and Any's lightning-fast betas and emotional support and general radness. Title comes from St. Vincent's song "Champagne Year".

There's something about the way November rolls into December that gets Louis instantly excited. It's almost as if he can feel the change of the months in the wind as crisp autumn falls into the woodfire and metal-cold of winter. A static in the air like a coming storm, an ache in his bones and a smile he can't control. 

Even if Louis wasn't an (almost) Christmas baby, he'd still love this time of the year above everything else. Since he was a kid it was just the perfect cocktail of all the things he likes most: people he loves, too much food, approved underage drinking, a tree in the house for no reason, gifts, more gifts, shitty snowmen made from muddy snow scooped up from the scant few centimetres that is England's endless tease at a white Christmas. Now that he's old enough for approved overage drinking and the budget to splurge on everyone, his love for it has just come more and more intense.

It's gotten harder now that the band is doing well because it's the only guaranteed time of year he gets to have a mess of family around him. Louis can already picture his mum's face when he shows up mid-December with a sheepish smile and a tiny wrapped box she will immediately know holds the Tiffany earrings she cooed about in New York all those months ago and it makes Louis grin just thinking about it. This year, the last few obligations they have for the new album keep Louis in London though, a constant tug at his heart for Yorskshire as they inch slowly towards that string of unbroken days he gets to be at home.

The one downside is that it's also the only time of the year he doesn't get the boys. Spending ten months out of the year in their pockets should get under Louis' skin but it's weirdly sobering to think of the few weeks he's not going to have their shoulders to lean against or their hair to tug and nipples to tweak, just having them around like the bass line to the song of his life. It's a lot like losing a huge chunk of himself all at once and it's a little fucked up that he's meant to just act like he remembers how to live without four other hearts beating the same rhythm beside him. 

That's why, after a few emotionally manipulative texts sent at two in the morning, Louis manages to draw them in during one the few days they have off to celebrate the little half-Christmas they'll never be able to properly have. He gets his replies over the next twenty-four hours, texts that range from brilliant excitement (Niall) to eye-rolling laughter (Zayn), but they all eventually agree on a date time to come over and help Louis deck his empty halls.

"Lou, give us a hand, yeah?" Liam asks as he drags the tree Louis chose in through the front door of his London flat, scattering pine needles everywhere as he lugs it through the front hall.

"I fucking love Christmas," Louis says, running at Liam with a handful of tinsel that he rains down on Liam's head.

"Yeah, I know," Liam says, panting as he stumbles against the wall, gloved hands wrapped around the trunk. It's so typically Liam, finding the hardest task and jumping to do it. Somehow he manages to be both genuinely heroic while never missing an opportunity to show how much work he's put in over the last few months, that insufferable mix of quiet pride while still shyly needing their compliments to smile. When he had arrived that afternoon to find that Louis had left his tree abandoned on the front porch, Liam immediately went back to his car to find his gloves, bravely taking the role of the handsome lumberjack he was seemingly born to play. "Help us out, though?"

"You said you could handle it on your own, babe," Louis says, sprinkling Liam with more tinsel before escaping with a hop and a skip. "Look at your big fucking muscles," Louis continues, and Liam grins sure enough. "Would be a shame to get in the way of that."

"Louis!" Liam's exasperated shout follows Louis as he cackles, running down the hall.

Niall's in the kitchen with Harry hanging snowflakes from the ceiling. Louis comes sliding in on socked feet, the slick and shiny tile that lets him surf half-way across to room. The cardboard box – one of seven he's been keeping stacked up in the spare bedroom – is open on the kitchen table, _xmas decorations_ scribbled in felt-tip pen on the side and spilling over with garlands and lights. It's a mix of things he managed to filch from home and bought during one very expensive trip to Harrod's last year, silly homemade felt angels and crumpled paper snowflakes mixing with delicate blown glass and shining silver and gold baubles. 

"Looks great," Louis says, flicking one of the hanging flakes. "Keep up the good work, lads."

"I thought we were here to help _you_ decorate," Niall says, standing on one of the chairs to sellotape the strings to the roof of Louis' kitchen. "We're doing all the work."

"Nah," Louis says. "I'm helping." The pockets of his pyjama bottoms are filled with tinsel and he strews some over Harry and Niall's heads to make his point. On the chair Niall is just that bit too tall and the tinsel lands around his shoulders. "Perfect."

Niall laughs but Harry just smiles, his hair glinting with silver. "Do I look good?" Harry asks.

Louis takes a step back to admire his work, Harry's rosy cheeks and his mess of curls and the tangle of tinsel on top of them prematurely aging him like streaks of grey knitted through the dark. Louis bites his tongue and rests a ball of tinsel right on the very crown of Harry's head, like the glittering nest of an exotic bird. Harry is very careful when he moves, like he's worried about messing up Louis' work. "I should put you in the front hall," Louis says. "Hang ornaments from your ears."

"I could sing Christmas carols," Harry says. "Like those living statues in Hyde park."

"Coin-operated Santa Styles," Niall says, his t-shirt riding up to expose his stomach when he reaches for the next snowflake. 

"I love it," Louis says. "A coat rack that belts out Jingle Bells."

"Can you hand me one of those stars?" Harry asks, still moving like he's balancing a cup of tea on his head.

"I can't," Louis says, throwing up his hands in apology. "Gotta spread the spirit to Zayn. Where _is_ Zayn, anyway?"

"No, but seriously," Harry says, smiling sweetly. "Gimme a hand, Lou."

"Spirit first," Louis says, patting Harry's stomach once before running away again, the same exasperated cries of his name chasing him back down the hall. 

More tinsel, always more tinsel. Thrown up in the air it comes down like the inside of a snow globe. It's a breadcrumb trail, a glitter of silver following Louis around the house, the gusts of wind as he runs spiralling them in eddies like newly fallen snow. 

Louis finds Zayn on the front porch trying to hook up a garland of fake evergreen branches around the doorframe. Louis shuffles out, still in just socks and his pyjamas, the concrete cold against his feet and making him hop from one to the other.

"Zayn."

"You won't, though," Zayn says without even looking at Louis.

"Won't what?" Louis says with a grin.

"I saw Liam covered in tinsel," Zayn says, putting up a hand as Louis tries to get closer. "I'm not doing my hair again, Louis."

"Christmas spirit, Zayn," Louis tries to explain. It's typical of Zayn to always be at least two steps ahead of Louis. Zayn was first to show up after Louis' pathetic little text and hug him; he was the one to suggest they each split the tasks because he knew Louis would spend more time fucking around than actually working; he was the only one who mentioned that of course Louis is the only one who seems to need help decorating his house. It's always done with a smile, though, some more sly than others, a grin like Zayn is placing a bet. If Liam is good for playing out the games and pranks that come to Louis as fast and thick as bad jokes come to Harry, Zayn is the one who pushes Louis to really be creative. Plain old fun isn't enough for Zayn, there's always that need for more and Louis realises that half the things he comes up with are just to make Zayn give him a smile that tells him he has done well.

"I'm full of the spirit," Zayn says, taking one hand away from the garland to wriggle his fingers. "I'm out here in the fucking cold putting up this stupid fake plant for you."

"You're staying for dinner, right?" Louis asks. He caves and stands next to Zayn to help him, holding up the length of scratchy green pine so Zayn can hook it up properly. "I was thinking we could order Chinese."

"I dunno," Zayn says, finally getting the garland to stay put. They take a step back to admire it, the stark white front door of Louis' house now wreathed in green spotted here and there with the glow of white lights. "My sister's in the city. She wanted to see that _Dirty Dancing_ musical, I think I'm gonna take her. Sorry, man."

"Oh," Louis says, his feet freezing, wanting to just jump on Zayn and cling. "That's fine, I was just thinking. Our last time together before Christmas and all."

"Lou, we're still going to the States, we've still got like a hundred interviews to do," Zayn says pointedly. 

Louis tries not to sigh, he knows Zayn is right and he doesn't want to get in front of that, but there's still that nagging need in the back of his head to have them together one more time in the year. "No, I know."

"Sorry, mate," Zayn says, ruffling a hand against the back of Louis' neck. "We'll have a blast in New York, though. You love New York."

"I do love New York," Louis says. "We'll kill it, yeah?"

"Oh, we'll totally kill it," Zayn says, taking Louis' arm and tugging him back inside. 

Zayn keeps his jacket buttoned even as they step inside the house, a bruise on Louis' heart knowing he's going to leave soon. Louis only just got them together and the house is still half-decorated, but he gets it, he does. Understanding it doesn't stop a petulant part inside of him from wanting to grab Zayn to make him stay, though. Something about having all five of them here feels so important right now, nowhere to be and nothing to do, just to have a moment to do what Harry is always going on about: breathing it in, taking a moment to admire all they've accomplished.

"Let's find Liam," Zayn says. "I wanna say goodbye."

A trail of pine needles and bark and dirt lead from the front door and down the hall like bloody footprints, the crime scene marking where Liam murdered the tree and dragged into the living room. Louis and Zayn follows the trail together, Zayn's arm around Louis' waist in a quick cinch. Louis can feel all five of Zayn's fingertips pressing against his side, soothing him, like he's keeping that touch until the very last second.

Liam and Niall are standing proudly in the living room, admiring the tree now sitting upright, wrenched into its wrought-iron stand. 

"Well done, lads," Louis says, stepping in between them and throwing an arm over each of their shoulders. 

"Me too," Harry says, running out the kitchen with a red bauble hanging from each ear. "I helped too."

"Cheering squad," Liam mumbles into Louis' ear.

"It's very festive," Louis says. "I'm very proud of every one of you. How 'bout we put on the things? Them sparkly things."

"Trim the tree," Harry provides.

"Trim the hell out of it," Louis says, nodding.

A tug at the back of Louis' shirt stops him though, the whiff of Zayn's cologne almost making Louis frown. "Listen, Louis, I have to dash," Zayn says. "Sorry, guys."

"Aw, Zaynie, you only just got here," Niall says, letting Zayn scoop him up in a hug. "I didn't even tell you I've got a date."

"You haven't," Zayn says with a huge grin, squeezing Niall harder. "That girl you texted me about?"

"That's her," Niall says. "Tonight and all."

Louis joins in on the flurry of backslaps Niall gets, making his laughter buckle and pitch as each one hits him. They all snuggle in on Zayn and Niall's hug, wrapping Niall up in the middle of a mess of sweaters and cotton and the slick cold of Zayn's leather jacket in their tangle of arms. Niall is incredible like this, somehow managing to be a multimillionaire popstar and making them all feel like high school kids again, congratulating him on something as simple as a date. It's the normal little life Niall manages to carve out for himself, more than any of the other boys somehow able to live out the teenage thing he missed out on over the last three years. In a life plagued by paparazzi and screaming fans it's worth celebrating, something they all love seeing Niall live out, and the boyish pink glow in Niall's cheeks makes it that much sweeter. 

"You taking her for dinner?" Louis can't help but ask as the hug falls apart.

"Yeah," Niall says. "Maybe a film or something."

"A classic," Liam says.

"You'll text me how it went, yeah?" Zayn asks.

"Obviously," Niall says.

The four of them see Zayn to the door, Louis lingering behind them in his socked-feet and fidgeting at the hem of his pyjama bottoms. Making sure to check himself in the hall mirror before he turns to them, Zayn grabs Harry in a tight hug, whispering something against Harry's ear that makes him laugh. Zayn goes for Liam next, hand going to the back of Liam's head to smooth down the bristle of hair there, Zayn's lips leaving a quick peck near his ear when they pull apart. It's like Zayn has intentionally saved Louis for last because he grabs him hard and tight, holding him for a bit longer than the others, almost like an apology. Louis lets himself fall into it, burying his face into the smell of smoke and cologne of Zayn's jacket, wishing it didn't have to end. Louis knows it's selfish; he just wants Zayn around right now and he holds on until Zayn's arms go slack against him.

"I'll see you guys on the plane," Zayn says as he steps back. "Cheers, lads."

A chorus of _bye_ s, badly harmonised, follows Zayn as he steps out into the quick London air. The four of them huddle against the cold in the open doorway and watch as Zayn plucks his keys from his jeans pocket before sliding into his Bentley. 

"The tree, then?" Liam says, closing the door against the cold wind rushing into the house. 

"I've some time, sure," Niall says, glancing at his iPhone. "What say you lot?"

"Okay, but we have to do this right," Louis says, bucking up even though there's a missing place in Louis' chest right where Zayn's smirk would fit quite nicely. "I'll set it up, you guys get unpacking."

It's exactly as his mother used to have it, Louis makes sure of that. Mariah Carey's Christmas album playing in the background, the lamps flicked on as the day goes dark outside, glasses of the champagne that Louis has had sitting in his fridge for six months replacing the sparkling apple cider his mum used to give them as kids. Niall and Liam are already working on the lights when Louis walks in with the bottle and four empty flutes, Liam holding the bundle of wires while Niall runs laughing around the tree in circles, trailing red and gold and green and blue behind him. Louis puts the bottle down on a sidetable and pours out the glasses, happy enough to just listen to the chaos and Mariah belting out _Silent Night_ , a half-decorated house strewn with tinsel and most of his boys filling up the empty space just as they should. 

"I really like this one," Harry says, picking a handmade angel ornament out of the box, a bundle of corn husks and glitter. 

"Lottie made it," Louis says, handing a champagne flute out to Harry. "I've got one made by each of my sisters in there, actually."

Harry's smile deepens as he admires the angel. "That's really cool, that's such a good idea. I should get Gemma to make one."

"It's nice, when they're not around," Louis says. "Something for the house, you know."

Harry nods slowly. "You looking forward to going back home, Lou?" Louis nods too, a slight clearing of his throat that Harry seems to understand instantly, clinking his glass gently against Louis' in sympathy. "Yeah, I know. It's been a really long year."

"A good year, though," Louis says.

"For sure," Harry agrees. "You guys made sure of that," he adds, nodding over to where Liam is laughing and trying to wrap Niall up in Christmas lights, a lasso of glowing colour wrapped around his waist. "Number one in, like, three million countries. You guys."

Shrugging tightly, Louis puts a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezes. "Was all of us, huh?"

"You seem kinda down, Lou," Harry says quietly, the two of them watching as Liam and Niall start to fight over the plugs, what should connect to what. "You want to cover me in tinsel again?"

"Can you stay for dinner?" Louis asks instead, trying to make it sound as casual as he can.

Harry takes a swallow of his wine. "I told you I had dinner plans with some of the crew, didn't I? Sorry, I thought I told you –"

"Oh, right," Louis says, remembering that text like a stone dropping into his stomach. "No, that's fine."

A quick beat of silence drops between them, filled up with Niall's snorting laughter as Liam stands on tiptoe to get the lights higher up on the tree. Liam's sweater rides up in the stretch and his jeans slide lower to expose more of the black briefs clinging to his ass through the apparent magic of antigravity. Niall gets a good slap in, loud enough that Louis can't help but smile.

"I could cancel, if you want," Harry says, still so quiet, almost against Louis' ear.

"Don't be a dickhead," Louis says, swatting at Harry's back. "We haven't spent enough time together?"

Harry laughs at that, knocking his head against Louis' own. His hair, swept back and unstyled and mostly just a mess of curls he keeps compulsively tucking behind his ears, tickles Louis' cheek. The smell of Harry's shampoo hasn't changed over the last two years and it's so familiar Louis has come to think of smelling it nearby as just a regular part of living his life. 

"We can have a big blow out in America, yeah?" Harry suggests instead.

"Heard they've got proper snow and all," Louis says, gripping onto that idea and going with it, letting himself smile again as Niall helps Liam tug up his jeans as he fixes the branches higher up on the tree.

"You really don't mind?" Harry asks, draining the last of his champagne. "Cause I think I need to go soon."

"It's fine, babe," Louis says. He makes it sound fine, too. 

The worst part is he knows they'd all do it, they'd cancel their plans and stay here if Louis asked them to, they'd do it without a second thought. Part of Louis is proud that he's got friends like that and part of him hates that he almost feels needy enough to ask them of it, that he's got the kind of loneliness that demands things from people. He's been working on it, slowly, but the fear of having an empty house tonight sticks by Louis' shadow like a ghost. Louis would never ask them to, of course, but it's difficult to explain why he really wants to. Finding time together on tour is one thing, a way to fill the hours and get through the stress, but it's another thing to need them this badly when they're having free time. It's embarrassing as it is insistent though, and watching as Harry gathers his coat and says goodbye to Niall and Liam almost makes Louis squirm.

"I'll see you soon, yeah?" Harry says by the front door, slipping into his boots. "The house looks good enough?"

"It looks great," Louis says and he doesn't chance saying anything else, he just falls into Harry and hugs him. Harry gives a little _oomph_ and hugs Louis back tight, arms wrapped all the way around him and keeping their stomachs pressed together, their legs interlocking like teeth in a zipper. Harry doesn't let go until Louis does.

"You'll be home soon," Harry says, leaving a strong, obvious kiss on Louis' cheek. "And we'll be tearing up New York before you know it."

"Sorry for the –"

"I know," Harry says calmly. "It's okay, Lou. We'll do dinner soon, yeah?"

Of course Harry gets it, reminding Louis that they all share the same worry about loneliness now that their lives have become so _full_. Of course Harry understands; he sleeps over at Louis' once a week when they're not touring for the same reason. Harry touches Louis' cheek once and nods quickly, like he's making a promise. 

"Get out of here, Styles," Louis says, his grin coming easier this time. 

"Don't get Niall drunk before his date," Harry says. "We all know being sick on her coat is a one month anniversary gift."

"Wine can't get you drunk!" Niall shouts from the next room.

Harry frowns and shakes his head solemnly and Louis can't help but laugh. "Miss you already," Harry says sweetly, the corners of his mouth lifting just as he looks at Louis.

Louis stands in the hall for a minute after Harry leaves, only two pairs of shoes left by the front door. He thinks about the coming trip to New York and Saturday Night Live, promised now by both Zayn and Harry, and that seems to be enough to keep him buoyant. Lit up by the thought of a party, Louis does a run and slide on the hardwood floors back into the living room where Niall and Liam have started hanging the ornaments.

"Your tree is too tall," Liam says, going on tiptoes again as he tries to hook a gold ball up near the top. The top foot and a half of the tree is missing lights, this big dark gap where Liam couldn't reach, and it looks stupid enough that Louis wants to keep it. "You got a ladder or something?"

"I've got an idea," Louis says. Liam turns to look at Louis and his expression changes from a pleasant smile into a look of horror as Louis goes running at him. With a whoop and a shout Louis jumps onto Liam's back. Liam just manages to catch him, taking a jarring step forwards that almost knocks the tree over and gives Liam a mouthful of pine branches. 

"Jesus, Louis, warn me!" Liam shouts but he's laughing too. His arms reach around back to hook under Louis' thighs, hoisting him up a bit higher. Niall hands Louis the ornaments one by one as Louis tries to climb Liam, just enough that he can cover up the dark spot with a cluster of shining balls and tiny nutcrackers and golden butterflies that catch the light. 

Liam dutifully carries Louis around after that, lumbering about with him like a rucksack on his back, returning to the ornaments and bowing down on one knee to let Louis grab handfuls of them at a time. Reloaded, they head back to the tree, Niall working on the lower half while Louis uses his vantage point to decorate the top. 

They even manage to drink the wine doubled up, Louis holding both glasses and curling an arm around to hold it out for Liam to drink. He spills more down Liam's front than he gets in his mouth but that makes Liam just laugh harder, his mouth and chin sticky with sugar, the front of his white t-shirt soaked through like he's been working out. When Louis drinks from his own glass he makes sure to spill some on Liam's hair. 

"I think we're all done here," Niall says when he takes the last ornament out of the box, a crystal snowflake that he puts right in the middle of the tree. It catches the light around it, prisming it into a rainbow, slices of colour dancing on the walls.

With Louis still on board, Liam steps back to admire the tree again. His hands are still strong and steady under Louis' thighs, not even a shake in his legs, his solid body unshakeable even though he's been carrying Louis for fifteen minutes now. Niall turns out all the lamps he can find and the three of them stand there together, a misshapen line, watching Louis' frankly enormous tree glint and shine, laden with its strange multi-coloured berries, their hard work turned beautiful.

"I think so, yeah," Louis says. "You gotta go?"

"'Fraid so," Niall says. "You coming down from the mountain anytime soon, Lou?"

Louis laughs and feels Liam's hands go loose around his legs, letting Louis slowly down to the ground. Louis grabs Niall in for a hug even before Niall manages to walk to the door, giving him a tight squeeze and spinning Niall around in a circle once.

"Thanks for coming over, mate," Louis says when he finally lets go of him.

"New York?" Niall says with a grin, repeating those words like they've become something mystical. 

"New York," Louis agrees, putting a hand firm on the small of Niall's back as they walk to the front hall together. 

The wine soaked into Liam's shirt dries unpleasantly yellow and Liam is grimacing in the mirror as Niall starts to lace up his shoes. Louis is trying not to laugh but it doesn't help when Niall points out that it looks like Liam rather creatively pissed himself.

"Louis, honestly," Liam says, shaking his head as he turns away from the mirror. "I'm meant to see the lads in an hour."

"Funky Buddha?" Niall asks, zipping up his jacket to his throat. He looks all snug in his letterman, the stripes on his collar up under his pink ears, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

"Celebrating Andy's recovery," Liam says. "He said he can finally drink again so we're having a little do. You can come too, if you want." The eternal offer, Liam's perpetual offer of a plus one to anything he's going to. It could be his cousin's neighbour's great-aunt's birthday and he'd still pipe up and invite them along if they wanted. 

"Not really in the mood," Louis says, forcing a laugh. It's scary how close he is to accepting the offer.

"I know you're not a fan," Liam says, patting Louis' shoulder. "But we'll do it right in –"

"New York, New York, " Niall suddenly belts out, the arm Louis isn't holding flung wide. "I wanna wake up in a city that doesn't sleep –"

" – and find I'm king of the hill," Liam comes in quickly, deep and low and instantly harmonised, "top of the heap –"

" – if we can make it there, we can make it anywhere," Louis deadpans. "Yeah, all right, so I like New York, you can stop taking the piss –"

"These little town blues –" Niall continues.

" – London isn't exactly a little town –" Louis mumbles.

" – are melting away," Liam says, putting his arm around Louis' other side, making them sway now. "I'm gonna make a brand new start of it –"

"Okay, bye, Niall," Louis says, giving Niall one last squeeze and pushing Liam away as he does. Liam takes a few laughing steps back but he still reaches over for a fist pound that Niall returns. "Have fun on your date."

"Will do, lads," Niall says with the tip of a hat he isn't wearing. "See ya."

It's grown colder since they said goodbye to Zayn, and the wind cuts right through the cotton of Louis' shirt and bottoms, making him shiver. Leafless trees seem to shake in cold as well, and even the neon green cross of a nearby chemist fidgets like a bulb is loose, glinting off every car mirror and window nearby like a New Year's firework exploding slowly. 

London outside brims with smells of Louis' third home (the first up in Yorkshire, the second on a tour bus many miles away) and it's comforting enough, Louis just wishes he could fill it with the people he loves all the time and not in fits and starts. Being with the boys as often as he is means Louis has never really gotten used to saying goodbye, and London seems to be the place he ends up doing most of the farewells. Places to be, people to see, the free time Louis has been wishing so desperately for now suddenly feeling oddly hollow. Niall's shiny black car glows to life as he turns the ignition and bathes everything in white headlights and red taillights and Louis needs to stop himself from yelling at Niall and asking him to come back.

Louis steps into Liam's space, holding the door open as they watch Niall pull on his seatbelt, giving them a hearty have through the windscreen. It's almost unthinking, the way Liam lets Louis in, that gap right next to him that Louis takes up so often when they're on stage like it's reserved just for him. Louis presses up against Liam, the furnace-warmth of his body coming through even with his champagne-soaked shirt and bare feet. Pressed up close to Liam, Louis starts to dread giving that one last London goodbye.

"I don't have to go quite yet," Liam says as they watch Niall reverse out of the visitor parking and out onto the London roads. "Anything else you wanted to do?"

"I think the house is sorted," Louis says, ducking away from Liam as he closes the door. "You hungry? Wanna watch a movie?"

"I _am_ hungry and I _would_ like to watch a movie," Liam says, making sure Louis' door is tightly locked before he follows Louis into the living room. "But the shirt. Really, Lou, did you have to?"

"Didn't have to," Louis says. "Just wanted to."

"Ah," Liam says, like that explains everything. He flops down on the couch and smiles up at Louis. "What did you want to eat?"

"You can order Chinese for us, yeah?" Louis asks. "My phone's on the table there, it's in my contacts. It's under the Imperial Dragon. I'll go find you something for you to wear, okay?"

"What do you want?" Liam says, picking up Louis' iPhone. Sitting on the sofa, Liam crosses his legs under him, looking up at Louis with his hair all mussed from the spilled wine and his cheeks sweet and round when he smiles. "Anything special?"

"Surprise me," Louis says. 

Taking the steps two at a time, Louis bounds through his house, running past the two empty spare rooms and into the master. He still hasn't unpacked from tour but he easily finds a t-shirt he stole off of Liam (he should, considering his suitcases are full of them.) It just happens to be a black shirt, emblazoned with Batman's yellow shield, and Louis really fancies the idea of Liam showing up to a club dressed like that, so he grabs it and jogs back downstairs. 

The Mariah Carey CD has finished playing and Louis can hear the television in the background, the half-sentences of a dozen different programmes as Liam surfs through the channels looking for something to watch. Walking down the halls, Louis can see all the decorations the boys put up throughout the day; the red velvet ribbons Harry insisted on putting on the top of all of the paintings Louis has hanging in the halls; the snowflakes Harry and Niall hung up in the kitchen lit up by the light of passing cars; the fake pine garlands Zayn wrapped around every stairway banister; the tinsel still left over from when Louis went running around with it. 

The most beautiful, of course, is the tree. Louis stands in the doorway of the living room and watches the tree glint gold in the dark, burdened with all the ornaments they could find. Louis can spot his sisters' work right away, the ones Harry put up carefully, and the fragile glass bulbs he put high up when he was clinging to Liam's back. It's exactly why he wanted them over today: even when the house is almost empty, Louis still has their fingerprints all over everything, nothing left untouched by his boys.

"I miss you, too," Liam says, startling Louis out of his daydream. 

"You what?"

The wine-soaked shirt is in a rumpled pile on the floor and Liam is just sitting on the sofa in his jeans, hunched forwards with his elbows on his knees, flicking through channels with the television remote. His body is lit up just in the glow of the tree, his hard and tight muscles somehow made soft in the golden light. The hair on his chest is sparse, a dark scratch of it in the shadows, and Louis smirks when he sees the two inches of dark boxer briefs clinging low on his hips. The beltless wonder. 

"I get so excited for our time off, but the minute I get home and close the door I just think, what am I supposed to do now?" Liam replies. He finds _Moonraker_ playing on some far-flung channel and seems satisfied with that choice, letting himself relax back against the couch with his arms spread out. Louis can follow the line of Liam's muscles, starting at his chest and down the lines of stomach to his navel, skin soft and bronzed in the darkness. Louis can also see the spot, on Liam's right side, where he could fit so neatly right now. "It's so quiet without you guys. I – I forget how to do quiet," Liam says.

"It's not like that," Louis says. "I love time off."

"Me too," Liam says, nodding. "But I still miss you."

Louis bites down on his bottom lip. "I just had this idea we could have tonight. I just kind of wanted one night to, like, celebrate the album and stuff."

"We had that big party," Liam says. "Though, I bet you probably don't remember most of that." Liam squints when he smiles, dark crow's feet at the corner of his eyes.

"Exactly. And that was totally brilliant," Louis says. "We just never do Christmas together and it's my –"

" – favourite," Liam finishes for him. 

"I love being home, I love being here –" Louis stops, looks around his house, his enormous house in this amazing city that he loves so much. Louis knows he should stop talking right now, but when he's with Liam sometimes he just can't hold it in. 

What started those years ago as Liam throwing his arms wide and saying _let's have a chat_ , that damn Daddy Direction sensibility, has somehow turned into a refuge. It's as if Liam knows exactly when Louis needs this, and he's always ready to give him the place to just _be_. There's something about the way Liam treats conversations like these, like they're precious, like nothing Louis says could be wrong. It's the same feeling he gets at three in the morning tucked in their bunks, when he forgets to be the loud boy who doesn't care and lets himself be the kid he was before any of this ever began."It just always seems to be the place where we're apart." 

"If you come here and we have a nice Christmas snuggle I won't tell a soul," Liam says quietly. "I know it's only me but I think I can sort you out." Liam flexes his biceps with a grunt, and for once Louis doesn't give him grief for the gun show.

"You promise?" Louis says, raising an eyebrow sarcastically but finding his mouth won't do anything but an honest smile. It's what he likes most about Liam, giving him all this deadly ammunition, all these weak nights and trembling words and knowing that Liam will never use them against him.

"I swear," Liam says, somehow always making the silliest promises sound sincere. 

Louis forgets the spare shirt and just leaves it on the coffee table, sliding in next to Liam on the couch. Liam puts his arm around him, carving out that spot for Louis so easily it's automatic. Even without his shirt Liam is so _warm_ , the same warmth Louis can remember from when Liam comes back from working out, his sweat dry but his body still glowing with heat. It's like a fire without the hearth, Louis keeping as close to Liam's warmth as he can.

They watch Roger Moore fight off baddies on a space station together in silence, only shifting once or twice before they find a place they're both comfortable together, two puzzle pieces snug together. Louis doesn't pay attention to anything that's going on, not the movie nor Liam, he's just in this place where he can half-close his eyes and exist without consequence. Louis doesn't think about the upcoming tour or the sales numbers or the engagements they have yet to attend, he just falls into this place like half-sleep, safe from pretty much everything. 

It can't last forever, of course, and the doorbell interrupts their peace, making Liam groan and push himself off the couch. The cold that hits Louis when Liam is gone is almost arctic and he curls into a ball on the couch, waiting while Liam pays for dinner, trading hearty laughs with the delivery person at his bare chest and the winter air. 

Liam comes back into the room carrying the bag of food in one hand and tugging his jeans up with the other. He stops suddenly when he sees Louis and his smile deepens like he's made up his mind. Putting the unopened bag on the coffee table, Liam crawls back beside Louis on the couch and settles his arms around him again.

Working on his weaknesses has been at the front of Louis' mind since he was sixteen and tumbling out of control. The things he couldn't control he tried to turn into good things: loud and out of control in a way that drew people towards him; sarcastic and biting in a way that would make people laugh; weak in a way that he hopes people knew meant he gave a shit even when it seemed like he didn't. He never really got better at being helpless and downright pathetic though, and even as he's wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve he's almost angry that he can fall apart at something as simple as missing people he spends almost all of his time with.

"Sorry," Louis says, pulling him together with a loud sniff he hopes will make Liam laugh. "We can eat, if you want."

"I'm not that hungry," Liam says calmly.

Louis doesn't follow him up on the lie, he just takes what Liam gives him: sitting together on this couch until their time ticks out. It's too much having Liam here right now, his strength traded for softness and his thumb making a small circle against Louis' shoulder. Louis' feels like he's on some kind of cusp, like he's rolling the dice to decide if the night will end up one of two ways. Reaching over, Louis easily finds Liam's left nipple and pinches it, giving it a sharp twist.

"You're a fucking menace," Liam says, soft and proud. 

Louis finds his laughter easily. Fuck the dice, he just takes Liam's smile and runs with it.

It's not long before Liam's phone buzzes. Liam ignores it but Louis can feel it vibrate a second, third, and fourth time over the next half-hour, the pocket of Liam's jeans pressed against Louis' thigh. Liam acts like nothing has happened, keeps his arm strong around Louis' shoulders and his mouth resting against the side of his head as he watches the film. Liam's breath is warm and steady, like a second heartbeat. 

"Answer it, idiot," Louis says after a fifth buzz. "That's probably Andy."

Liam gives a guilty grin, like he was waiting for Louis to be ready to say that. Liam leans away from Louis and pulls his phone out of his pocket, thumbing through his missed texts. 

"Yeah, it's him," Liam says. Another pause, like he's waiting for permission again.

"I'm fine," Louis says, trying to sound annoyed. "You shouldn't keep him waiting."

"I know," Liam says loftily. He stays still for one more second, his body still all warm around Louis like he's giving Louis one more chance to say the word.

"I'll kick your ass if you even think about skipping out on your party," Louis says.

"All right, all right," Liam says, finally satisfied. Louis hates him for the kindness but he still almost says _stay_ when Liam gets up off the sofa and the cold replaces him again. "Ooh, is that mine?" Liam asks, nodding to the shirt Louis left on the table.

"It should fit," Louis says, waving a lazy arm at it.

"I hope so, it's mine, after all," Liam says, shaking the shirt out and pulling it on in one easy motion. "Come say goodbye, then."

Louis drags his feet as he follows Liam to the door. He rolls his eyes when Liam gives him a smile as he curls his scarf around his neck, sticks his tongue out when Liam winks at him as he zips up his jacket. It's the fourth goodbye Louis has had to say tonight, but feels okay about it now, whole again like some kind of magic. Louis' skin is still all warm with the echo of Liam's touch, his house is shining with the work of his boys, and he's got two peoples' worth of Chinese food he can eat in front of the television tonight. It's enough, enough emergency love pumped into him like CPR, the rhythmic compressions of their hugs making Louis smile and scuff his feet and _remember_ , remember all he has when he starts to forget. 

"I know we're busy with the holidays and stuff, but I think could find a night before we hit New York," Liam says. "To make up for tonight."

"You're not busy? I tried to find a day but I'm busy and all the boys are busy –"

"I could find a night," Liam says. "I know it's only me, but we could hang out if you want."

Louis frowns to stop anything else from happening, any immediate need to smile or laugh or just fall apart again. Liam must know Louis is fucking with him because his smile is huge, and he reaches a hand across the space that divides them and touches Louis' cheek, pressing his thumb against the corner of Louis' mouth like his frown is a smudge Liam can wipe away. 

It all comes out at once, before Louis even has a chance to hide it. He rushes into Liam's arms and wraps his arms around his neck and kisses him. It's just a simple kiss, a closed-eyes kiss with their mouths pressed firmly together, three seconds and nothing more, but Louis needs it like the hungriest, most desperate kiss he's ever given anyone. It ends with a smack of lips, a sound that tells Liam to open his eyes again. 

Liam touches his fingertips to his lips for a second before he smiles. "You're so cute tonight. What's gotten into you?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Louis says. He has kissed Liam dozens of times in as many different circumstances, but for some reason this time Louis' heart is beating hard and fast, his hands trembling so much that he has to press them against his sides. It might just be the fragility of tonight, as thin and breakable as those fucking ornaments, but that doesn't explain why he wants to rush forward and feel Liam again. It might be tonight but it might be a lot of nights, too. "Say hi to Andy for me," Louis says instead, wanting Liam to stay so he can do it again, wanting him to go so he doesn't have the chance.

"I will," Liam says, looking pleased but still a little dazed. "Sleep tight, Lou."

"Drink one for me," Louis says, opening the door and standing in the frame, alone this time as he watches Liam walk to his car.

"Only one?" Liam shouts over his shoulder.

Louis laughs but he closes the door before Liam can get in his car. There's no one to stand by him and watch this time, no one to tuck against neatly as he loses his pieces one by one. He can hear Liam's car growl to life and Louis takes a step away just to get away from the noise. He knows this is the chance to be stronger than he thinks he is, to accept his empty house for what it is, but he just can't handle it right now and half-jogs back into the living room where the food Liam ordered is sitting on the coffee table getting cold.

It's not a bad night, Louis makes sure it's not a bad night. He eats until he can't stomach another bite, and he watches the rest of _Moonraker_ and half of the next James Bond film in the marathon, and he looks at his tree winking bright back at him. Even though Liam has long gone, that spot on the couch still feels as safe as it did when it held his warmth.

*

"I liked the one with the stick," Liam says as he unlocks the front door to his house. His keys jangle as he tries to find the right one, finally opening the door with a heavy slam of his shoulder. "I think he was my favourite out of all the – all the Hunger Games."

"The one – with the stick?" Louis says, stomping his feet on the doormat before following Liam into the house. 

"You know, the one with his nan," Liam says. He flicks on the lights and Louis watches as Liam's house is lit up in parts, first the hallway and then like a trail of dominoes each doorway flooding with light. Louis is disappointed to see that apart from a small artificial tree by the front door, Liam's house is almost totally bare. Coming from his own nest of tinsel and gold, this place almost feels _cold_. 

"Finnick, you mean?" Louis says, sighing loudly enough for Liam to hear. Remembering characters' names was never Liam's strong suit, and Louis still hits him every time Liam slips up and calls a dwarf a hobbit.

"That's the chap," Liam says. His face is still flushed with the cold, always the one to hold onto the colour in his cheeks and the tips of his ears the longest, but his hands are so warm when he helps undo Louis' scarf when it gets caught in the zipper of his jacket. "And the girl who said fuck you, she was great."

"Tell me, though," Louis says as he hands his jacket off to Liam, watching him hang it up neatly in his closet. "Did you like it?"

Liam's blush just doubles his winter-pinked cheeks. "I've said that a lot, haven't I?"

"Nah," Louis says in a way he hopes Liam will know means _yeah_. "Niall was definitely on the money though, he said we'd love it."

"He's never wrong about us," Liam says. "We never would've seen that dragon training one without him, eh?"

"He definitely seems to understand," Louis says.

The house is just as Louis remembers it when he helped Liam move in. Everything is exactly where Liam directed them to put it, picture frames still leaning up against the walls Liam hasn't had time to fill yet. A thin layer of dust sits atop everything like an impossibly slow clock showing how many days they've spent away from home. As Liam walks through the plain white hallways, his footsteps echoing in the hollowness, Louis feels a pang in his heart. Louis would hate to live in a house like this, couldn't imagine waking up and wandering around without feeling a hole in his gut. It's impossible imagining Liam, that kid made from fire and love, living somewhere like this. 

"C'mere," Liam says, turning and beckoning Louis closer. "I wanna show you summat." 

Two wide glass doors open out onto the balcony and Liam undoes the lock and slides them open. No one would be able to tell there was a huge fire here only a few months ago, the plaster achingly new and white and unmarked, shiny brass hinges and perfectly clean glass that Louis suddenly wants to smear with his fingerprints. 

"Come on, have a look," Liam says, finally reaching back to grab Louis' hand and tug him outside. 

It feels as cold out here as it looks inside. Dressed in only his t-shirt and jeans, Louis crosses his arms with a frown and settles next to Liam, looking down to where he's pointing. 

Christmas lights. Millions of them outlining all the streets below like coloured yarn across a map. From this high up, Louis can trace all the familiar roads they walked to get here from the cinema. It's lit up like a matrix, a tangled web spun by psychedelic spiders. Liam is smiling as he palms a cigarette out from his pocket and puts it between his lips, his eyes staying on Louis even as he lights it up.

"Almost makes up for your sad little house," Louis says. His eyes are stinging (from the cold, definitely the cold) and goosepimples run up his arms as he looks down on the world Liam proudly shows him, Liam's arms thrown open like London has wrapped itself in colour because Liam knew Louis would like it. 

"Aw," Liam says, a breath of smoke blown out before he pouts. "I just don't spend much time here, didn't see the point of decorating. Back home in a week, after all. Besides, I've got all this just outside."

"So you're a smoker, now?" Louis asks, matching Liam against the railing, both of their elbows resting on the cold metal as they look down on the yellows and greens and reds below.

"Not really," Liam says, pinching his cigarette between forefinger and thumb like he's always trying to compulsively hide it from sight. "Only when it's dark, and only when I want to."

"Zayn's a bad influence," Louis says, _tsk_ ing just to get Liam to smile.

"Definitely," Liam agrees. He looks down at the cigarette in his hand and seems to consider it deeply. "But it reminds me of Zayn when he's far away, you know? I get a whiff of it in my clothes and it's like he's right there. And it reminds me of wicked days on tour, too. I know it's really bad but it reminds me of too many things I just really love." Liam taps the ash from his cigarette over the railing and takes another smooth breath of it. "It reminds me of smoking up with you lot on that boat, and the first time you got me drunk, and all sorts of things – I dunno. Is it so bad if I like doing it?"

Louis sneaks a hand against the back of Liam's shirt, palm pressed flat. It's always in these tired, late nights with his boys that Louis feels it all come back again, the rush of love that sometimes becomes a kiss and sometimes a slap. It's this enormous need to let Liam somehow know what they've gone through, this year and all the others too, a need that frustrates Louis endlessly because he can never quite turn it into the words he wants Liam to know. It comes out in touches instead, in the quiet of the night when there's no one else to hear. 

"Yeah, it is just as bad, even if you like doing it," Louis says, smiling while Liam laughs. "How, uh. How do you remember me, then?" Louis asks, quiet then.

"How do I remember you?" Liam blows out a stream of smoke and thinks about it. "I never thought – I don't think I need a _thing_ , actually."

"What? Why?"

"'Cause," Liam says. He shrugs and moves his arm just so, standing up from where he's hunched against the railing of his balcony to put it around Louis. A place for him. "Just the way I am, just the way I live these days, that's all you. When I muck about with the other boys, or even just the other guys, or at home. That's all you, isn't it? I never did it before you. I never could, not really." Liam thinks about it again and nods, satisfied. "Yeah, that's where I find you."

It's not what Louis was expecting. He's not sure what he was expecting, but it's not those words, sentences that Louis wants to spin out and wear like a scarf. "You are – you are so pathetic, Liam," Louis says because it's all he's got left, a sharp tongue playing against his thin lips that suddenly ache to smile.

"I know," Liam says with a grin he can't seem to let go of. "I think maybe you are, too."

"Yeah, that's how I remember _you_ ," Louis says. "When I feel as stupid as this. That's all you."

"I know," Liam says. Louis might hate his helplessness, wishing he were strong enough and big enough to carry this weight, but Liam always manages to treat that like one of Louis' best qualities. "I remember the first time you trusted me enough to have a cry on my shoulder. I felt so happy when you did, I thought I'd cry too."

"Oh, great, being miserable makes you happy –"

"Happy you trusted me," Liam interrupts to say. "Of course I felt like shit, I hate seeing you sad." Liam pouts, big lower lip, like the thought of Louis crying is enough to tug a frown out of him. "I just loved you so much that night. I love being your friend so much."

"It took a while. Had to fix you a bit," Louis says. 

"And I had to calm you down," Liam says.

"Fucking lies, I haven't changed a bit," Louis protests. 

"No?" Liam asks pointedly.

"Shut up," Louis says.

There's a half-inch of ash on Liam's cigarette like he only just remembered he was smoking one. Liam taps it over the railing and smiles around his next pull. Even out in the cold Liam seems to fill the balcony up, not with the heat of his skin but just with his feeling of safety, the shelter under his arm Louis never knew he needed until Liam started giving it to him.

Watching Liam look down at the lights is incredible. Even though he lives here and must see this every night he's at home, Liam still looks delighted, that same grinning joy he afforded Louis' house with its paltry decorations and tangled strings of lights. It's so easy to get caught up in the way Liam looks at the world, seeing the delight in things Louis never would have thought about. Louis wonders if he brought that out in Liam. Liam was never one for mischief until Louis taught him the fun of it, but over the last few months Louis has noticed that he doesn't just have a partner in the games he comes up with, but someone who want to take Louis' hand and bring him on adventures of his own. 

Stubbing out the last quarter-inch of his cigarette, Liam flicks the butt onto the ground. It's enough not to say anything, the two of them just looking down on the lights again. It's hard to notice over the months, but Louis can't lie, he knows he's changed. He's not sure if he's stronger or a better person or worth the money and the fame given to him, but knowing it brought Liam and the boys closer it makes Louis feel like it's a change worth going through.

Liam must catch Louis' looking at him because the smile in his cheeks deepens a bit as he looks up to meet his gaze. Carefully, very carefully, Liam leans over towards Louis and catches his mouth in a quick kiss. They hover apart for a moment, eyes closed, and Louis gently leans his forehead against Liam's before they dodge in for a second kiss. Slower this time, noses brushing together. Louis can feel Liam's lips part gently, moving so their lips lock for a few seconds before falling apart again.

The kiss tastes like Zayn, the smoke on his breath when he comes in from a quick break, and something that – even though Louis has never had it against his mouth before – he knows is pure Liam. Sugar from the sweets he had during the movie, something boyish like the way tea tastes after you've finished your cup. It's the first time Louis has paid attention to how Liam's mouth feels pressed against his own, but it's like Louis has known this taste for years.

They both draw breath as they turn away from other to look at the Christmas lights again. Side by side on Liam's balcony, bare arms freezing against the metal railing and shoulders pressed tightly together, they look towards the ground with their twinned smiles.

"What was that for?" Louis can't help but ask.

"Dunno," Liam says softly. "I liked it when you did it the other night, like it summed everything up so nice. When I don't know what to say, it's just good, innit? Like I don't have to tell you how I feel, I just gotta let you know. I just thought it was our new thing or whatever."

Louis' heart still pounds heavily as he smiles. He has kissed Liam out of spite and for a laugh, he has kissed him because he was ridiculously happy and because they were going to be apart for awhile. None of those made as much sense as kissing Liam because it's just better than words. 

"Our thing, yeah," Louis says. "Sure."

"Good," Liam says, another squinting smile. "You're my best mate, Lou."

Louis nods slowly and it's just easier to kiss Liam again than to say it back.

*

The back doors of the club slam closed behind Niall, the last in their little drunk duck train out of the screaming noise of the party and out into the freezing cold city. Louis is buzzing, _buzz-buzz-buzzing_ he says out loud three or four times as he stumbles against the brick wall of the back alley, leaning against it for support. He's laughing so hard he swears he's going to piss himself, started a half hour again when Steve Carell started doing gentle impressions of Harry at the club (fidgeting hands, the slow drawling monotone of Harry's constant "was that okay?" absolutely spot on, Harry glowing the whole time) and he just cannot stop. It's the same with Liam, almost brought down to his knees laughing as he puts his hands on Louis' shoulders to steady himself, slipping a bit on a thick sheet of ice and slamming his shoulder into the wall beside him.

"I just did a shot with Will Ferrell," Harry keeps saying, his mouth slack but his eyes bright. He's doing a Bambi on a frozen lake thing, the inch heel of his boots sliding him around the long patch of ice as he grabs onto Niall's arm for help. "I just did three shots with Will Ferrell," Harry says.

"Paul Rudd gave me a shot of absinthe," Niall says happily. His hair is a mess, ruffled dozens of times by each of the actors who had joined them at the Saturday Night Live afterparty. Niall has a way of always getting caught up in the middle of everything, shouting and throwing his arms in the air every time another famous person put a glass in his hand like a kid living out a hundred fantasies at once. Every ten minutes he'd grin over at Louis like he couldn't believe what was happening and Louis grinned back, just as starry-eyed as Liam grabbed the back of Louis' shirt to tug him in to have another beer bought by Seth Meyers, like that's a normal thing to have happen on a weekend out. 

"What's it taste like?" Zayn asks, the most sure-footed of them as his big black boots crunch the ice underfoot. He gets a hand around Niall's waist and helps him out of the ice and into the snow. Harry clings along for the ride, his jacket and shirt both unbuttoned and flying open, exposing the line of his chest. Louis can't help but stare at it, drunk and marvelling at how when Harry twists his body it looks like the bug is flying.

"Piss, actually," Niall says, laughing so hard Zayn has to hoist him up again. "But it was _Raul Pudd_."

Zayn buries his face in the hood of Niall's sweater and Louis can hear his muffled cackle. "Paul Rudd, babe," Zayn says, ruffling Niall's hair.

"What'd I say?" Niall says, smiling and confused.

"You know, when I was twelve," Liam says, slowly inching his way along the wall, "and sitting on the floor of the living room watching _Elf_ on TV I didn't think I'd be – I didn't think that in nine years I'd be – I'd be throwing back tequila with Buddy."

"Mugatu!" Harry shouts out. Zayn has finally guided them onto solid ground but Harry's steps are still unsteady. Louis almost falls from the wall and back onto the ice when he realises Harry is trying to walk like a model, one foot in front of the other.

"Harry Styles modelin' _Derelicte_ ," Zayn says, slapping his thigh.

Harry throws open his shirts and thrusts his bare chest into the cold air, strutting towards where Louis and Liam are almost crying together. They've just reached the far edge of the ice and Liam's hand almost burns against Louis' side where he holds on for dear life. Doing a few more inelegant spins, Harry's boots finally give out from under him and he lands with a shout and a thud on the ground. Their laughter doesn't stop even as they all offer hands to help grab Harry and lift him up, wiping the snow from his arse as Harry finds his balance again.

Fuck is it ever good. It's not just the New York (or "Noo Yawk" as Liam said on the plane, so frequently that Louis slapped him) Louis was looking forward to, it's the fulfilled promise that the boys gave him back in London. No bodyguards, no security, just five lads and their almost-Christmas soaked in vodka, set on fire. Louis finds his place in the middle of the boys and, arms strung one against another like a stumbling game of red rover. It might be just to keep each other standing but as they step out onto the city street, five-abreast and making people step off the kerb to walk around them, but Louis feels like he's part of an unstoppable force, a power too strong to ever break. 

It's late and the city has changed from the bustle of business to the riot of a night out and everything just seems to welcome them with open arms. Street vendors calling after them with hotdogs and falafel, taxis that honk as they drive by, all these other happy drunken people that they roar hello to as they pass. 

Louis is on the cusp of being _too drunk_ , just perfectly balancing on the edge where he can remember everything, his dizzying high making every detail of the night vivid and fucking remarkable. Niall's laugh carrying through the air and echoing between the buildings, Harry's absurd New Yorker accent that he keeps using to say hi to people as they pass by, the scratch of Liam's scarf against Louis' cheek when they stumble closer together and their heads knock painfully, hilariously.

Zayn, on the end of the line closest to the road, lights up a cigarette and Louis remembers that, too. Not from tonight, but the way that smoke tasted when he kissed Liam. Their thing now, a new game with new rules that Louis really wants to memorise. He can smell it, the slight difference between their brands of cigarettes, and he knows that Zayn's lips must be chapped from the cold and the air because that's how Liam's mouth felt when he leaned over to say wordless things against Louis' skin.

"Wait, where're we walking?" Niall says suddenly. He is cleaved to Zayn's side, almost burying himself in Zayn's big wool jacket, his cheek red where it has brushed up against Zayn's lapels. "Anyone know?"

"Back to the hotel?" Zayn says, pinching the filter of his cigarette and taking a quick gasp. They stop suddenly and, in a row, they each look down the line at Zayn. "Where's the hotel? Louis?"

Louis squints from side to side. "Liam?"

"It's – north," Liam says firmly, his head swaying as he tries to take everything in.

"North of where? Are we going north?"

"Where's the star? The north star, they taught us that in –" Liam frowns, neck craning to look up at the dark-clouded sky. "They taught is that in stars."

"Keep walking?" Louis asks Zayn.

"Keep walking," Zayn agrees.

They walk and they walk. Louis' legs are numb from the cold and the booze, his jeans frozen like sheets of aluminium but he actually hopes they never find their hotel, that they just keep going so this moment can last forever. 

Louis keeps pace with his boys as they pass building after building, towering monsters with their half-finished Tetris games of lit-up windows crowding down over them, like he's walking through canyons made of pure colour. All the leafless trees lining the roads have been strung up with fairylights, the skeletons of their branches glowing like x-ray slides, a dizzy dream of a road. The liquor in his blood and the stars in his eyes makes Louis feel like he's walking through a galaxy, clinging to the lifeline of his boys as they explore the foreign planet of their fucked up night. Even at three thirty in the morning they pass dozens of people like asteroids, navigating around them and stumbling off into the road or almost slamming into lampposts, almost dying rather than letting go of each other. 

"Shit," Liam says, jabbing a finger to point across the road. "Isn't that the place where we did the show?"

"30 Rockefeller," Zayn says, tossing the last of his third cigarette into the slush beneath their feet. "That's definitely it."

They're a lot more lost than even Louis could have drunkenly guessed. The taxi ride from here to the afterparty was fifteen minutes, but they seem to have found their way back to NBC building anyway. It makes Louis wonder just how long they've actually been walking. 

"I can call us a taxi," Liam says, stomping snow from his boots. "Should I call us a taxi?"

"Nah, I can do that," Harry says. Clearing his throat, Harry cups his right hand against his mouth. "We are a taxi!" he shouts out.

Louis knows he's way, way drunk because he just bursts out laughing instead of reaching over to give Harry a smack. They must all be drunk because they're all laughing like it's the funniest thing they've ever heard – and fuck, it is, it is – their wall finally crumbling while Harry stands tall and proud among them.

There's so much inside Louis wanting to burst out right now. There' so much fucking _joy_ he's got in his lungs that feels like he just needs to scream. He can't get away from it, a bubble in his chest that he needs to burst. Grabbing Harry around his middle, Louis gives Harry a bearhug, squeezing him until Harry is hiccuping. Louis never knew he could have this much love inside of him all at once, like he's so filled up with it that no mischief, no adventure could ever hope to get this out of his system. Louis knows that when he's hungover tomorrow, when he remembers this in a month, when he's on his fucking death bed, he'll still have this feeling inside him. He wants to beat his chest, tell every stranger that passes them that he loves them, run a marathon, anything just to express even a tenth of the greatness he feels inside right now. Luckily he has his boys, luckily he's got people willing to be great too.

"Not yet," Louis says when he finally lets go of Harry. Turning around to face the boys properly Louis sighs out a steadying breath that comes out in a winter fog, trying to gain his bearings. "I remember seeing a skating rink when we came the other day. Let's go to the fucking skating rink. We can't be here – we can't be here and just _not_ go."

Not one of the boys even tries to say no. They seem almost ecstatic, actually, and Louis knows then that he's not alone with this lion's roar in his chest. If they're feeling anything like Louis feels now they have to, just _have_ to do this, they have to burn out together like a dead star. The boys all rally around Louis with that same drunk and radiant love, like they've got the fight but they need the plan, clinging on to each of Louis' words like he's giving them the secret for how to make a good night better.

"What do we do?" Niall asks.

"I think it's probably locked," Harry adds.

Liam hushes them with a finger to his lips even as he tries to get his own laughter under control. "Listen," he says.

"Listen, yeah, listen," Louis says. They've all hunched closer together like a rugby scrum as Louis comes up with his most brilliant plan yet. "Okay, we run 'cross the road, jump the fence, and run around on the rink."

A hush of silence follows. "Brilliant," Zayn says. "Let's fucking do it."

"Let's do it!" Niall shouts out, Liam shushing him again as a police cruiser drives past. "Let's fucin' do it," Niall whispers.

On Louis' signal (looking both ways, of course, waiting for a lull between taxis) they run screaming across the half-dozen lanes of road towards the shining beacon of 30 Rockefeller. 

Yeah, they fucking do it.

Even though the tourists have long gone home everything is still lit up in full. The enormous tree, thousands of feet high and wrapped with millions of miles of lights so that every twig seems to gleam, dwarfs them all when they get near. It's surrounded on all sides by white wicker-work angels blowing trumpets and oversized Christmas presents, boxes that could hold Mini Coopers and baby elephants. Even in the dead of night the loudspeakers are playing a loop of Christmas carols, the story of Rudolph being echoed out in the empty plaza. 

Running down the metal steps to the rink, Louis discovers that it's only guarded by a waist-high fence that, even drunk, they each manage to jump over safely. Louis is the first on the ice, the boys watching him like they're worried he might fall through. Shuffling a few steps out towards the middle, Louis does a quick turn and grins, putting his hands on his hips. 

"Come on, dickheads!" Louis shouts, and the boys all run out after him.

It's the best kind of disaster. The boys all slip around wildly on the ice, sliding about and smashing into each other like a crazy game of billiards. Liam seems to most confident on the ice and he throws his arms out for balance, taking baby steps towards Louis with this hilarious look of complete concentration of his face. He's stopped halfway to him though when Harry grabs his outstretched hand for balance, a high pitched shriek before he falls and pulls Liam down on top of him, a tangle of arms and legs. Louis can hear each of their laughs mingled together, Liam's tenor and Harry's frantic giggling as he tries to right himself. It's perfect, it's so perfect.

"Ah, shit!" Niall shouts, his shoes slipping like he's trying to run on the spot. "My knees!" 

Louis isn't sure if it's deliberate but Zayn slides in next to Niall and grabs him around the waist, hugging him in tight. They manage to stop sliding and just stand there, Zayn hugging Niall around the middle and not daring another move.

"Got you, I've got you," Zayn keeps repeating.

"My knees," Niall says again weakly. "Bad idea, this was a bad idea."

"I've got you," Zayn says again.

"You've got me," Niall says, worried at first. "You've got me," he repeats, happier this time. "You've got me!"

Finally untangling himself from Harry, Liam makes the short, shuffling trek to where Louis is proudly watching everything go down. He comes to an unsteady stop beside Louis, but Louis grabs his hand and pulls him into safety, like a tugboat easing Liam to the harbour. 

"It's brilliant," Liam says, his voice all full with a rush of awe. "Lookit where we are."

Louis's face is so fucking cold, the only thing he can feel is the ache in his cheeks from his unshakeable smile. "Like a fucking movie."

"Did I tell you how good you sounded tonight?" Liam asks. There's an urgency to his voice like this is something he absolutely needs to know, has to be absolutely sure Louis is aware. "You sounded so good tonight. Everyone did. You sounded so, so good, Louis."

"Can you fucking believe we sang _our_ song on like, fucking television tonight? That stupid thing we wrote back in Sweden like a year ago?" Louis breathes out deeply again, watching his words turn to fog and frost.

Liam shakes his head. "I remember it so much. I remember every single thing we did. I remember you writing down them words and asking me if it was okay. I remember – wait, did I cry?"

"You fucking cried, yeah," Louis says with a laugh. "It was after you broke up with Danielle, wasn't it?"

"Right, right," Liam says. He looks up at the sky again, his eyes shining to make up for the stars hidden behind the thick blankets of cloud. "You said you wanted to write me a thing to make me feel better, right? God, I remember buzzing on champagne and listening to you pick out the chorus on that old piano. Who would've fucking thought, huh? Who woulda thought in a year we'd be singing what you wrote in front of everyone."

"I thought we would," Louis says. He's still holding onto Liam even though neither of them are in danger of falling anymore. Louis keeps holding him. "When you showed me your notebook full of all those fucking song ideas, I knew, I just knew we'd be able to do it. When you put your mind to it, Liam, fuck, I just knew we'd end up here."

They've reached that place in the conversation again, like pulling off a paved road and onto a dirt track. Louis isn't sure when it started happening but he knows that he's actually looking forward to it now, the point where their words stop coming so quickly but the love is still there. It's all caught up in Louis' body, thick in his blood and sharp in his bones, and it surges like electricity when Liam leans closer and presses his head against Louis' temple. They're all bundled up in scarves and coats, puffed up against the winter cold, but Liam makes sure he's properly holding Louis, making there they find a place where bare skin can touch. 

"Listen," Liam whispers close to Louis' ear. "It ain't our song but do you wanna dance, Lou?"

The last jingling refrains of _Frosty the Snowman_ have trailed out over the loudspeakers and, after a moment of silence filled with Harry's yelling and Zayn's laughter, a slower song starts to play. A woman, her voice low and crooning, urges Louis to have himself a merry little Christmas, and Liam is smiling at Louis. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are bright red, eyes bright with booze and clear in the winter cold, and his smile is endlessly hopeful. 

"I do wanna fucking dance, actually," Louis says. 

It takes some untangling, unwinding themselves from the little knot of a hug they've made, but soon Liam is taking a careful step back on the ice and offering his hand out for Louis. They clasp mittens and Liam pulls Louis' hand out like they're doing a sloppy tango, one hand outstretched and guiding Louis and the other tucked snug against the small of his back.

Turns out ice isn't made for Viennese waltzes, and after some slipping and sliding Liam laughs and gives up. Instead, he puts his hand on Louis' hips, finding their place against Louis' winter coat. Louis feels as Liam pulls him in closer against the ice until the tips of their boots are touching and they're huddled front to front. Very carefully, they move in a slow circle. Louis puts his arms around Liam's shoulders and they're close enough that they can press their foreheads together.

As they turn to the slow rhythm of the song Louis can see everything around them. Zayn still chasing Harry around the ice, skidding and just managing to keep his balance while Harry halls over on every third step, the legs of his pants rimed with frost. Niall shouts and tries to crawl after them but just ends up lying on his back to stare at the sky. 

"It was Christmas eve, babe," Niall starts to sing, his voice croaky and drunk, "in the drunk tank... an old man said to me... won't see another one... "

Louis can hear Liam snickering to himself, and every time he looks up at Louis he's still grinning that hopeful little smile. 

"Wondered how long it'd take him to sing that," Liam says.

"What is it?" Louis asks.

"Whatchya singing?" Harry shouts at Niall, and Louis laughs with Liam.

" _Fairytale of New York_ , me man," Niall says, his accent going full-on Irish. "They got cars big as bars, they got rivers of gold!" Niall continues to sing, his arms and legs flailing on the ice like he's trying to make a snow angel. "But the wind blows right through you, it's no place for the old!"

"What is it?" Harry asks, huffing out misty breaths now that Zayn has finally stopped chasing him around.

"The Pogues, Harry," Zayn says, giving Harry's shoulder a heavy shove as he shuffles by. "Come on, man. You know the Pogues. A bit of Irish cheer, yeah?"

"Irish cheer!" Niall bellows out. "Zaynie!"

"Go on, man," Zayn tells Niall. "Keep singing."

Niall laughs and picks up where he left off. "When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas Eve, you promised me broadway was waiting for me!" Niall continues to belt out like a shanty, his gloves fists slapping against the ice like he's playing the drums. 

Zayn comes sliding on his knees next to Niall, nudging into his ribs and making him fuck up the next line because he's groaning and laughing.

"You're a bum, you're a punk!" Zayn shouts to Niall, filling in the call and response of the song.

"You're an old slut on junk!" Niall shouts in return, reaching out to grab Zayn and pull him down next to him on the ice.

Liam has stopped the slow turn of his dance and just stands there holding Louis in the cold. Their feet slip sometimes, but they've got each other tight, the two of them laughing privately together as Niall drunkenly makes his way through the whole song, his voice raw and happy. Louis can almost hear the fiddle and the flute keeping time behind Niall like they're in some pub in Mullingar. 

Even though they're in one of the biggest cities of the world standing beneath a skyscraper, the world feels tiny to Louis right now. Miles away and frozen half-to-death, it's like Louis has stumbled onto yet another place to call home, standing in the middle of a rink at four o'clock in the morning and listening to his drunken friends belt out their dirty Christmas tune. Just like how sometimes the first class cabin of a jet flying them to Australia can feel like home. Just like how a movie theatre they've rented out to watch the new Thor movie feels like home. Just like how any place, no matter where Louis is, feels like home if he's got fun and four boys with him.

"What a night," Liam whispers. "What a fucking night."

Bridging the distance to Liam's mouth is nothing at all. Louis kisses Liam once, their lips so cold, and then again just a little bit longer. They each break out in a giddy, nervous laughter when they pull apart, but it's only a moment before they kiss again.

"Me too," Liam says when Louis pulls away and their foreheads press together again. "Me too, Louis."

"The hell are you two doing?" Zayn shouts. "Get over here, Louis."

Liam raises his eyebrows in question and Louis nods in agreement. In an instant they're apart again and shouting as they half-run and half-slide on the ice to where Zayn, Harry, and Niall are lying on their backs. Louis is drunk and he's grinning and the taste of Liam is still warm on his mouth when he falls down next to them, too happy to even say a word. Next to him, Liam reaches out to grab Louis' hand and together they look up at a sky that spins and spins and drunkenly spins. Needing this more than anything, Louis reaches out to Niall and holds his hand too. In the silence between Christmas carols he can hear the rest of the boys doing the same, the scrape of gloves against the ice to hold on tight as, sprawled out together on the skating rink, they make a five-pointed star.

*

Louis' phone is flashing low battery for the second time today. He digs around by the side of his bed for the charger, plugging it in again. He's been checking it all day, glancing at it every fifteen minutes looking for a _happy birthday_ text or tweet, constantly making sure it's not on vibrate in case he misses a call. By half eleven he still hasn't even received a single one from the boys, even though almost every single member of their crew has sent him their best wishes.

It's Christmas Eve and Louis understands the boys are all over the place right now, but it makes Louis fidget when he's supposed to be lying in bed and trying to sleep. An eleven o'clock bedtime is absurd but he knows how early his sisters like to get up on Christmas morning and he wants to be there when they open their presents, so he said goodnight with the rest of his family and trudged up to his bedroom to try and get some rest. He can't sleep though; he's wearing one earbud and listening to the new Little Mix album he hasn't had the time to check out yet, lying back on his bed and staring up at the stucco ceiling of his childhood bedroom as the last fifteen minutes of his birthday run out. 

Checking his phone again, Louis sighs at his empty inbox. At the very least he'll be able to give them hell for this, a good six months of using the guilt to get them to do whatever he wants, but it doesn't stop him from frowning now and rolling around under his blankets trying to find a warm place in his cold bed. 

He almost doesn't notice it at first. The music is loud and Louis is too fixated on the frustrating ache in his chest. The second noise gets his attention, a rattle and pop, but after compulsively checking his phone again he rolls back to the other side of his bed. The third noise is loud though, unmistakable. It sounds like stones being thrown at his bedroom window, just like Stan used to do when they were in sixth form and was luring Louis out for a promise of fun.

Rolling out of bed, Louis walks to his bedroom window and tugs it open. It sticks in the cold, a creak and groan before he manages to wrench it open. A winter wind blows through his room, bringing with it all the smells of Doncaster (firewood and the grease from corner chip shops and diesel fumes), and Louis pokes his head out of the window.

"Hiya," Liam says, waving from down below, one hand full of pebbles. "Let us in, yeah?"

"The fuck?" Louis says. It's all he can say, it's the only think he can think to say.

Liam's cheeks dimple as he smiles and gives another wave. "Didn't wanna ring the bell. Open the door, Lou?"

Louis leaves his window open to the elements as he runs out of his room, sprinting down the steps and through the hall. He doesn't even have time to even guess at what the hell is going on he just makes for the door as fast as he can, his heart racing and pounding in his ears, his chest suddenly tight with shallow breaths. He almost trips over a rug, and again over his sisters' shoes, but he finally gets to the front door and fumbles at the locks frantically before throwing it open.

"Hey," Liam says, giving another little wave. 

Louis can't help but stare, feeling a thousand things he wants to say rush into his chest but freeze in his throat. Liam is standing on the front step of his parents' house in his winter jacket like a Christmas gift that's been wrapped against the cold and Louis is helpless again. 

It's just one step too far, one unbelievable thing too many. This year has been like a lifetime's worth of adventure crammed into just a few months – a tour that went on forever but somehow ended too soon; an album with his name written in small print under more than half of the songs – and all of it has been done by Liam's side, a boy like the common denominator to every good thing in Louis' life. Despite all those huge events though, those towering heights and crushing lows he's gone through this year, something as simple as seeing Liam here right now is somehow just too much for Louis. It's almost unthinkable having Liam here on his birthday like it's nothing at all, like he always shows up in Yorkshire at a quarter to midnight with a smile and a wave, like this isn't out of the blue and sticking in Louis' throat like a shout he can't let out. It's one step too far, one thing too much.

In the split second after Liam's little wave, everything comes back to Louis' all at once. His want for just one night with all the boys together before they all went off to their separate homes, that brilliant trip to New York that still makes Louis smile helplessly when he thinks about drunkenly lying down on the ice and shouting about nothing, and most of all his and Liam's thing, their new thing that Louis keeps thinking about before he falls asleep at night, all the stuff he wants to not-tell Liam with just a press of their lips. 

Liam laughs a little at Louis' shocked expression. "Happy birthd –"

Louis throws himself at Liam, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him hard before Liam can even finish the sentence. He kisses him frantically at first and Liam holds him tight, a little noise of happy surprise before he's kissing Louis back. Liam's arms wrap around Louis instantly, almost lifting him off the ground. Liam's arms are cold against Louis' thin t-shirt but Louis barely feels the winter that Liam brings with him, his bare feet on concrete aching and his thin pyjama bottoms whipped around in the wind and he just _does not care_. He kisses Liam and he hopes it says everything: _fuck you for leaving me hanging all day_ , and _thank you_ , and _I missed you_ , and – as their noses brush together as they tilt their heads to kiss deeper – _I love you, you fucking idiot_.

"Oh, wow," Harry says as he turns the corner from the side of the house. "I hope we all get one of those, Lou."

Louis pulls away from Liam's mouth, eyes wide and mouth agape. Liam is laughing as he lets Louis back down to the ground. Over Liam's shoulder Louis watches as each of the boys walks around from where they were hiding, Zayn and Niall following Harry around the edges of the garden and up onto the front step with Liam.

"You all – what are you – what the fuck are you doing here?" Louis sputters.

"Your birthday present," Liam says, stretching out an arm like he's introducing the boys. "And only just in time, _Harry_."

"Sorry," Harry says, smiling serenely. "Couldn't slip away from the family when I wanted. Gemma really wanted to beat me at Risk. Might've lost on purpose _even though_ I had all of Asia."

"The fuck are _you_ doing here?" Louis says, jabbing a finger into the middle of Niall's chest. "You don't even live here."

"Liam rented a private plane for me, didn't he?" Niall says. He slaps Liam's back. "Had it all planned out since the beginning of December, he did."

"But aren't you all – shouldn't you all be with –" Louis has to press his lips closed because if he talks anymore he's going to lose it. There's no pretending, no way he can just act like he's fine right now. His eyes are wet and it's not just the wind or the cold, his eyes are wet and his bottom lip trembles even when he bites down on it.

"Bless," Zayn says, patting Louis' shoulder. "That's exactly what I was looking for, bro. Just wanted our Louis to cry, didn't we?"

"We did," Niall agrees. "This'll be _our_ gift, won't it?" Zayn laughs and high fives Niall. Louis loves how much he hates them for it, for seeing him helpless and adoring it.

"Aw, Lou," Harry says, and he steps forward to wrap his arms around Louis. They all do, Zayn and Niall and Liam too, holding Louis tight in the cold night on this front porch so many miles from their own homes. 

Louis just fucking lets go. He cries against Harry's shoulder and he can feel Niall's giggles tickle the back of his neck, he can smell Zayn so close again, just the way he wants all of them to be. No one lets go, not for a second, not even when Louis finally gets a hold of himself and stops crying, not even when Niall mumbles that he's being squished. 

"You fucking assholes left me hanging all fucking day," Louis says, even though he can't summon the will to sound even jokingly bitter. 

"Yeah, we're sorry about that," Zayn says. "But we wanted it to be a surprise. A big deal, like."

"Was it a big deal?" Niall asks.

Louis is freezing but he doesn't want to let go. "It's a big deal," Louis mumbles against Harry's jacket. "It's a big fucking deal."

"Know how much we love you, Lou?" Harry says.

"Is it a lot? It better be a lot," Louis says, trying to sound funny even as his voice draws tight like he's about to break again. 

"It's the fucking most," Zayn says.

"It's flying to England so I can spend an hour with you," Niall adds with laughter that fogs in the air.

Liam has been quiet this whole time, seemingly happy to just watch this whole thing unfold. He's furthest back in the hug and Louis can't really feel his touch, only what's left of his kiss still tingling on Louis' mouth. Louis shoots an angry look at Liam who just shrugs and gives a sweetly innocent _who, me?_ smile back. It doesn't even take another kiss to hear everything Liam wants to say, it's enough for Louis just to frown at him and to see Liam wink back, a whole conversation in almost nothing at all. It's enough just to look at Liam and know.

"You should – you guys should come inside," Louis says finally, his lips starting to shake from the cold this time. "Just, be quiet, okay? My sisters are sleeping."

Since Louis has been away, his mother has gone mad remodelling the house. What was once just a storage room has been completely converted into a den, complete with surround sound entertainment system and enormous over-sized sofas, walls embarrassingly covered in framed promotional photos of the boys. Considering it's the furthest place from the bedrooms, Louis decides that it's his safest bet and he leads them towards it. After taking off their boots, the boys each make a big show of tip-toeing after Louis, fingers pressed to their lips in a smirking hush. 

"You're all completely mental," Louis says, pointing an accusing finger at the boys once they've piled into the den. All four of them lined up in a row on the sofa, looking back and forth between each other and wearing the same knowing smile. "You all _drove_ here?"

"I flew," Niall corrects him.

"You all came here to, what, spend an hour here?" Louis asks. "Is that seriously what you did?"

"Is there a problem?" Zayn asks, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Louis opens his mouth to say _yes, fuck_ but he just can't do it. He wants them here, he wants them here so bad he can't even joke about it. Their smell, he's astounded at how much he misses their fucking smell, the way they laugh, fuck, the way they smile when Louis struggles not to break down.

Once again, Louis hates that he wants them so bad but he's so fucking proud he's got friends who would do this.

"Oh, and as of right now –" Liam says, looking down at the giant silver coin of his watch, " – this is officially your Christmas present, too. Happy Christmas, Lou."

"Yeah, yeah," Louis says. "If you're born this close to Christmas people _always_ lump your presents in together." They all laugh but Louis still stands by the closed doors, his hands back against them for safety. For all the attention he craves, suddenly _having_ it is overwhelming and Louis just doesn't know how to move, how to accept the gift he felt so guilty for wanting and is so relieved to have. 

"C'mere," Harry says, leaning off the couch to take Louis' hand and pull him down towards them. 

Louis lands between Harry and Zayn, sitting on one of their legs each. He feels as hands circle his waist as the boys all touch him, bringing themselves closer so they can cuddle together in a pile with Louis as their fulcrum. Louis lets himself get pulled and counts the hands he can feel on his sides, his shoulders, his knees. He can hear Niall whisper _happy Christmas, Louis_ somewhere nearby, he can see the chevrons of Liam's tattoo as he grips the hand Zayn has pressed flat against Louis' stomach. It's a Gordian knot, too tangled to ever properly untie, and Louis doesn't want it any other way.

"Your arse is really sharp, Louis," Zayn mutters. "You need to put that footballer muscle back on you."

"Oh, can we turn on the telly?" Niall says. "They were showing Ireland playing Croatia in the airport and I missed the results."

"Damn, I left my phone in my car," Harry says. "Zayn, can I borrow yours? I told Gemma I'd text her when I got here."

Just like that, they fall right back to where they always were: five boys loving their wasted time together. It's like everything is just as it should be, another ordinary day together with nothing special to recommend it. There's something about being with these boys that makes existing so easy for Louis, no second thoughts or time to regret, nothing to worry about at all, not a damn thing. Niall turns on the television and keeps the volume low, the knot finally loosening as Harry gets up to go sit beside Zayn and text his sister. It's just another night, and it's all Louis wanted. That's what Liam bought him: another night to just breathe, another night to just have them before they run around the world together, another night.

"You," Louis says the word like a curse as Liam slides down the couch to sit next to Louis. " _You_ did this."

Liam smiles down at his lap before he looks up at Louis. "Sorry I didn't buy you anything wrapped. I know how much you like tearing up the paper."

"Takes a lot of cheek to consider yourself a _gift_ , Payno," Louis says. "What if I wanted to return it?"

"Do you?" Liam asks. His hand is resting so casually against Louis' knee, thumb rubbing the same circle over and over against the cotton of his pyjama bottoms. "Cause I've still got the receipt if you wanna make an exchange."

Liam bites down on his lower lip after he says it, speaking almost shyly. For some reason that hits Louis right in the chest, makes him shiver and stop talking, their familiar banter suddenly feeling wrong right now. Harry is on the phone and Zayn is toying with his hair, tugging at it and making Harry swat him away. Niall is leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and watching the highlights of the game he missed. And then there's Liam, sitting there next to Louis, only their knees touching and nothing else, looking up at Louis uncertainly like he's suddenly worried this isn't enough, that he might not be enough.

"You conquered the world, you know," Louis whispers. "You conquered the fucking world this year. Like, I'm not even kidding when I say that. You literally conquered the world." 

"Only 'cause of you," Liam says. "I could only do it 'cause of you, Louis. I didn't – not on my own, I couldn't've done this on my own."

"Yeah, well," Louis says, shrugging. It's always been hard to include himself in talk like this because it still feels so strange. Even three years down the road he'll look at the rest of the boys on stage and wonder who's missing, still so easy to forget that he's even part of this sometimes. "I helped, I guess."

"Nothing without you," Liam says. "We're nothing without you."

"It's true," Niall says casually, obviously having overheard their conversation.

"What's true?" Harry pipes up.

"That we're nothing without Louis," Niall says easily.

"Very true," Zayn says. "Too true, actually."

"Yep," Harry agrees, holding the phone away from his ear just to say it. "We're honestly nothing."

"See," Liam says. " _See_."

Louis shakes his head. All the things they've accomplished together feel so far away right now, like they took place in another lifetime entirely, and Louis has to keep reminding himself that it all really happened. The songs they wrote, the album they made, it all took place over nights just like this one, nights that Liam and Louis spent exhausted in a pile of their boys working on a new song together, slapping each other to keep awake at the back of the tour bus, only able to write the things they liked most because they were surrounded by the boys who kept them safe.

That's all there is to it. Harry and Zayn go back to poking and prodding each other while Harry tries to talk to his sister on the phone. Niall is pressed up against Louis' other side as he gives a little cheer watching Ireland win on penalties. It's only when Liam and Louis are surrounded by the boys, lost in the easiness of the night, that they get the chance to live like this, building these stupid little dreams and seeing them made real.

"Yeah," Louis says quietly. "You make for a pretty good gift, Liam."

Liam nods and bursts out in his smile again, eyes crinkling sweetly. "I was hoping."

"You seriously fucking did all this for me? Just so we could have that stupid Christmas I kept moaning about?" Louis has to ask again. He knows the answer already, he just loves hearing how that sounds out loud. "Just cause I mentioned it that one time?"

"Yeah," Liam says, a bit more defiant this time, proud in Louis' assurance that he's worth it all. "I did."

"Jesus," Louis says, feeling a hiccup in his throat, a sting against the corner of his eyes that he can't blame on the wind this time. "Liam, that is – that is seriously the. Fuck. I honestly don't know what to say."

"Oh," Liam says, his mouth rounding sweetly. "Well, then."

Louis laughs and puts a hand in the middle of Liam's chest, leaning closer. It's not quite a kiss at first, just a brush of mouth against mouth as Louis pushes in against Liam's sternum, feeling the sturdiness of warm muscle and bone, loving the way their bodies fit together. Louis nips at Liam's lips, little bites as sharp as his sarcasm. The words Louis can't say without crying come out then, in teeth and mouth, in the soft flicker of tongue when Liam grabs the back of Louis' neck and pulls him in deeper. Louis slides lower on the sofa and Liam does the same, hunkering down to curl up next to each other. They're bookended on both sides by the boys, like this little place was made for them, pressing against each other as their soft kiss goes hard and playful, as Liam laughs against Louis' mouth and Louis tries to bite the tip of Liam's tongue.

"That's a hell of a birthday present, Liam," Zayn says.

Louis pulls away from Liam and he can't help but laugh. He only just notices that all the boys are watching them kiss, but for some reason Louis doesn't feel the need to explain. They're smiling, laughing even as they start to draw in towards Louis again, threatening to smother him again, and Louis knows just from the way they ruffle Liam's hair and pat Louis' shoulder that they understand, that they must have understood for a while. 

Liam holds onto Louis, keeps him there as he presses another, softer kiss against his temple. Louis thinks it's sweet until he realises that Liam is _holding_ him there as the rest of the boys start to converge on them. It's only when Harry starts making smooching noises that Louis realises it's too late to run. It's too late.

Niall moves in first, darting in to smash his lips against Louis' neck. As Louis laughs and tries to pull away Zayn is there to meet him, leaning across Liam to grab Louis' shoulders and bite his earlobe, making gross, wet noises like a sloppy makeout. Harry, less menacing by far, leans down to press just a single sweet kiss on the tip of Louis' nose. Louis stops trying to fight it, he just lets Liam grip him tight and feels his cheeks go hot and tries to remember every second of it. Tonight, just another night, just the night he was looking for.

Liam is the last to join in, just the soft press of a kiss at the corner of Louis' mouth. Louis is hot and flustered and he can't think of a single funny thing to say, but his little hiccuping laugh is enough to get the boys going . When Liam pulls away Louis grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him back, loving that he can do that now, can feel that touch any time he wants. It's always been there, buried behind words or hidden in the pinch and twist at a nipple, an excitement just to be near Liam and to feel his love come on like sunlight. There has always been a reminder of it in the way Liam will hug Louis goodnight and good morning every day on tour, an energy Louis has shared with Liam since they were honest with each other, but this is the first time Louis has been able to see exactly what it is. It's the first time Louis can lean over and actually take it. Louis kisses Liam and he can feel Liam's mouth smile half-way through, a shift of his lips as he lets Louis push him deeper into the couch cushions and have him.

"I hate you," Louis mutters. He's strong-headed, sure, but it's so easy to let himself submit to this. Liam's mouth, the boys' hands, caught up in their bodies like a song he wants to harmonise with. "I hate all of you."

"Too bad," Liam says, kissing Louis full on the mouth to stop him from saying another word.

Louis has tried to work on his feeling of helplessness, he really has. He's tried to wake up strong every day because it's what he has always wanted to be: the boy with the shoulders who can hold the weight of the world if someone needs him to, the boy who won't let anyone down. It doesn't always work, it hardly ever works, actually, but Louis fucking tries. Sometimes he's got miles of distance to fight against and sometimes he's got no patience and no energy and never enough fucking time. 

Most days Louis is defeated and it's all he can do to not just snap, just trying to get through the day without collapsing like a dying star. Louis knows he's not very good at being the person he wants to be, it's something he has come to accept (and forced everyone to accept, too) but he's not proud of it. Sometimes it's just too fucking hard not to be weak, too hard not to just lose himself to his aching need to be surrounded by people he loves and who love him. 

Tonight is different though. Tonight, Louis doesn't give a shit because he know he doesn't need to try to fight it. Not when he's surrounded on all sides, not when he has an hour to have a cluttered little Christmas with his boys piled up on a couch in his parent's house, not when Liam nuzzles against his neck and kisses the bob of his Adam's apple and says "we conquered the fucking world" warm against his skin. No, Louis doesn't need to fight, not when he's got four boys all too ready to be the strength he needs.

End.


End file.
